


Captured. Fed. Kissed. Touched.

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: ? - Freeform, Abduction, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bondage, Dark Rey (Star Wars), Empress Rey (Star Wars), F/M, Feeding, Humiliation, I have no idea what I was doing with this fic, Jedi Ben Solo, Masturbation, Overstimulation, Sensory Deprivation, denial of food, i have no idea what to do with tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:42:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27498157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ben Solo is taken hostage. His captors treat him well enough. His captor turns out be a she. His captor turns out to be much more than he expected.
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 15
Kudos: 61
Collections: Anonymous, Pepsi and Pals' Hardcore Kinktober Challenge





	Captured. Fed. Kissed. Touched.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [persimonne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/persimonne/gifts).



> Hello. This is the first time I've written anything this out there. I wanted to write it for Kinktober, but being new to the whole writing smut and dirty stuff It took me longer to really grasp what I was doing and even still I'm not sure what happened. I learned about it from "Pepsi and Pals Kinktober" so I guess in a way I want to gift it to Persimonne. I'm not sure if it even contains any kinks listed on the challenge and even if you don't read it that's okay it's out there for anyone else.
> 
> I appreaciate any feedback you give me. My fic writing "skills" are fairly new and smut is daunting. If you do read this though, thank you.
> 
> _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

==============

It feels lonely. 

_Lonely_

Ben can almost hear himself laugh at the thought. It’s not as if he spent his entire childhood with the same feeling. The political dependencies and smuggling tendencies of his mother and father had not left a lot of room for Ben Solo. At his Uncle Luke’s academy the feeling persisted. Never getting along with other students, keeping to himself. 

But this is a whole different kind of keeping to himself. 

He doesn’t know how long it's been. The harsh winds of the planet ravaged his face two? Maybe three weeks ago? 

It’s hard to keep track of the days. Meals arrive sporadically. No doubt to stop him from figuring out the sensation of time. 

The room he’s in doesn’t help either. It’s not too hot, nor too cold. Just _perfect._ They think it must keep him guessing about what system he's in. But he gave that up some time ago. 

Hinges hiss before he hears the sound of the door whoosh open and closed just as quickly. 

The guards- No. The guard?. 

It’s hard to tell. 

Being blindfolded isn’t the most opportune way to assess a situation. 

But they are _light_ footsteps. Never harsh. Whoever it is always approaches with trepidation. 

As if they don’t know he no longer has use of the force, that his arms aren’t tied behind his back and that his ankles aren’t bound together as he kneels on the soft carpeted floor. 

The tray is gently placed in front of him. It’s never a horrible meal either. It always smells divine. He wonders why a prisoner kept in such a state is allowed a meal fit for a senator or _something more_. 

He hears it every time. The light scrape of the spoon as it picks up the food destined for his mouth. But the first bite is never his. No. Whoever is feeding him always tastes first. The thought should disgust him. A spoon used by someone else. But _his_ guard is willing to risk their life had it been laced with poison. So he sees it as a necessary compromise. 

It prods gently at his lower lip before he opens up to receive the hot mouthful. Trapping it behind his teeth and using his tongue to lick the spoon clean before it's removed and readied for more. 

It’s just another day. 

+++ 

It should be hard to fall asleep when your knees hurt. Abdominal muscles tensed to keep upright for fear of losing balance and falling over. Sleep has never come easier. It should alarm Him, but it’s not surprising. The absence of sound, absence of vision and the absence of.. Everything.. Makes it easy. 

+++ 

Soft footsteps wake him. The rustle of the guards' clothes follow as they sit down in front him. 

The spoon lightly taps the tray. 

He waits. 

It’s not his turn. 

_“Hmmmmmmmm”_

It’s piercing. 

It’s like ice coursing through his veins. 

It’s the first time the being sitting across from him has ever made a noise. 

He could almost cry. He isn’t sure why such a simple thing has brought his mental walls crashing down. His heart rate spikes. It’s all of a sudden a very real reminder that this is actually happening. 

He has to control himself. It’s his turn. 

_Why?_

He doesn’t know why he opens his mouth first. Anticipating the spoon. Maybe because it’s just expected now after however long. But as he kneels, blind and bind. The spoon never comes. 

His captor “tsk’s” before softly humming in delight for a second time. 

The second spoonful. 

His spoonful. 

Every one that follows is accompanied by that hum. The spoon clatters against the tray and he jumps. 

The guard _giggles?_

It’s then when he feels a light brush against his cheek. Cool, soft leather traces over the left side of his face gently stroking at the soft skin. 

“No food today. You’ve been naughty.” 

The voice is soft and gentle. Young and female. 

His entire body stiffens. He feels paralyzed and trapped. Breathing, a concept that had become so natural to him is painfully foreign. He doesn’t know what to do and his chest starts to ache. 

“Shhh. relax” she coo’s. 

The whole situation should be unnerving but the sound of her voice is so pleasant and soothing that even in this state of distress Ben can’t help but feel reassured by it. 

It’s overwhelming, and all of a sudden the tears he didn’t know were trapped in his eyes are escaping from under the blindfold and down his face. 

The only explanation is that without the Force and without his eyesight his senses have become so attuned that he can feel the presence of _her_ around him. Close to him. Getting closer. 

He stays still as her hot breath collides with the tears freely flowing. She must only be a hair’s width away from him but he dares not move for fear. 

But she moves. 

Pressing chaste kisses with her soft warm lips to his cheeks, suckling at the salty tears that adorn them. She hums in the same way she does when eating a delicious meal. As if the wetness is to be savoured like a gourmet dish found in the wealthiest homes of the New Republic. 

Her lips leave one side of his face to attend the other. Her nose lightly bumps his in the manoeuvre. 

He’s suddenly assaulted with a memory. A memory of a frightened boy crying in his mother’s arms as the voices in his head get louder. 

_It’s okay Ben, it’s okay. You’re safe. Mommy’s here._

He doesn’t remember how long it took until his sobs resided and his mother put him back to bed. 

But it felt longer than this. 

Caught up in living past demons, he hardly notices that his eyes have run dry, her lips have parted from his face and he’s breathing normally again. 

He feels calm. She calmed him. She’s the one who pushed him to the edge, but she held onto him, and brought him back. 

His mouth opens to thank her- _thank her? Why was he going to thank her? She was the one wh-_

The hissing and clanging of the door breaks him from thought. She’s gone. 

+++ 

He hasn’t been asleep since _the incident_. He’s been thinking about it for however much time has passed. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand why he would be taken? Why whoever it was, was treating him so well albeit so badly being left in this compromising position? Why was _She_ the one attending to him? Why was _She_ kissing away his tears? 

He didn’t hear the door open and close. He didn’t hear the tray be set down in front him. But he does hear the soft hum that always accompanies her first bite. 

He doesn’t bother to move this time. Doesn’t anticipate what should be his spoonful. After the last meal he’s not sure when they will next feed him or _if_. He just stays still and keeps his lips firmly together. 

She hasn’t taken her next bite. His bite. He wonders if this is some elaborate game of cat and mouse. If she’s waiting for him to break like last time so she can wear him down only to lift him back up again. He’s not going to give in. He’s going to resist any movement until she breaks first and takes that bite or no one does and the food goes cold. 

Something warm pokes his lower lip. For a split second he thinks it’s the spoon, that maybe he is getting fed. But the texture is all wrong for a metallic piece of cutlery. He feels little ridges trace along the plump of his lip, something more solid rakes across his upper lip. A nail. 

It’s her finger. 

It’s _her_ finger, and she’s not wearing gloves. 

The realisation makes his tensed jaw slack and she seizes her opportunity. Applying a gentle downwards pressure, his lips part under her movement and then a steaming mouthful of food is shovelled in. 

There must be no more food on the tray. The sound of the spoon being placed back down indicates the end of meal time. He’s just waiting to hear the now familiar rustle of her clothes and the clanging of the door. But they never come. She’s still here, after feeding him. Just there. 

He can’t shake the knowledge of what her finger feels like tracing his lips, prying his mouth open. On top of her kisses the day prior it’s the most skin to skin contact he’s had in years. It’s the most he’s had since before leaving for the temple at age ten. It’s been twenty years. 

“You’ve been a good boy today.” 

She practically purrs upon uttering the six words just spoken. He sucks in a breath and holds it. He holds it like it could be his last because at this moment in time he has no idea what comes next. 

It dawns on him that he will. 

The way she spoke so softly. Praised him so kindly, her voice angelic amidst the madness of this situation he’s somehow ended up in had made his cock stiff in his pants. He’s not unfamiliar with his own anatomy, it’s just apart from a few self explorations alone in his hut as a teenager he’s never been this way in the presence of someone else. Let alone at their complete mercy. 

She notices. Of course she notices. His pants must be tenting as his cock strains against the fabric. But kneeling restricts a lot of give, and the cotton is constricting. There is nowhere else for it to go other than be pressed painfully against the fly of his- 

His inner monologue is interrupted by her palm cupping his groin. The feeling of her hand touching his cock, his warm, throbbing, aching cock makes his body convulse. His shoulders shudder, his back arches and his head shakes. 

“Oh you like that don’t you?” The question is more of a tease. She’s playing with him figuratively and literally as her hand continues to caress him. Her voice laced with delight and pleasure, he can almost hear the smile on her lips as she says it. 

He never used to last long when he did it himself. He’s sure it’s going to be even quicker with someone else. Her palming becomes pressing, with each bit of increased pressure, of increased movement he can feel himself nearing closer to a peak he’s visited only a few times. 

The convulsions continue as he fights his own body to stay in control. He tries to steady his shoulders, straighten his back, stop his arms from thrashing and his hands from clenching in their binds. But it’s no use. 

It happens with a whimper and a whine. 

He sees stars behind his eyes. Stars so similar to that of when he used to look upon the night sky during sleepless nights at the temple. He feels warmth, warmth like the searing deserts and hot sun of tatooine. A place his uncle had taken him to, to learn of his family's history. 

But the warmth isn't spread through his whole body. It’s concentrated in one place and he realises humiliatingly, he’s come in his pants. 

His head may be spinning in post orgasm bliss but he’s still present enough to realise how embarrassing it must appear. All it took was two mutterings of praise and a few touches for him to spill in his underwear. 

He hangs his head low and chokes away a sob. How did he ever get here? 

The nerves of his temple flare as her lips press a kiss against the skin. 

“You make such pretty noises when you come”. Her voice is quiet but loud in his ear. 

Another kiss. And this time his body gives in. His head leans gently into it, tilting ever so slightly towards the lithe moment of affection. Affection all for him. 

Her hand sits limply on top of where his cock softens. “I’m going to enjoy all the pretty noises you make”. She presses down. The overstimulation is too much and he groans. “The way you groan”. She presses again. He whines. “The way you whine”. And again. He grunts. “The way you grunt.” 

She leans into the side of his head. Her nose squishes against his cheek and he can feel her lips grin along his jawline. 

“This was meant to be,” she murmurs. “Prophesied for generations”. 

Her hands move up his body, tracing his abs, his pecs, his neck before nestling his hair. 

Lightly tugging at his black locks “We’re a Dyad. You and I. Two that are one”. 

A bead of sweat runs down from his scalp and her tongue darts out to meet it. “I’ve waited my whole life for you. I’ve saved myself for you. And now we can finally be together”. 

He feels her fingers thread through his hair towards the back of his head. Reaching the knot on the blindfold. The light pressure around his head realises and the thin band drops to the floor. 

His eyes are flooded with light. His vision is blurry but in front of him a pale shadow moves into a view. 

It’s her. 

It takes seconds or minutes, Ben isn’t sure. But his eyes start to focus on the freckles adorning her face, the button nose that was pressed so sweetly into his cheek scrunched up in delight as her own cheeks dimple amidst a bright toothy grin. She’s happy. 

“Welcome home, Ben Solo”. 

She’s the Empress. 


End file.
